


keeps us from falling apart

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Complete, Dragon Age Kink Meme, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Prompt Fill, Top Fenris, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: Fenris is well aware that his possessive behaviour is not an attractive trait. Luckily, Hawke disagrees.





	keeps us from falling apart

It’s a heady, intoxicating feeling, to know that he’s the _only one_ to have touched Gareth so intimately. Not even in the three years that they were apart did he seek out the comfort of another’s touch, something that makes Fenris pause and take a shuddering breath.

And it sends a thrill through him that he’s never felt before when Gareth says, “And I am yours.”

Fenris had never thought of himself as being possessive, and realizes that it’s likely not considered to be an attractive trait in a partner. But Gareth has said nothing on his more… unattractive traits. As a matter of fact, Gareth’s been sweet and accepting of him in every way. He waited for him, stayed his friend, even when Fenris feels he deserved none of that – and took him back with little thought.

Yes, sometimes Fenris wonders what he’s done to deserve this man.

However, what he _does_ know is this: Gareth Hawke is _his_ and no one else’s.

With a growl, Fenris pins Gareth against the door of the room, “She had no _right_ to touch you that way.”

“Fen–”

“ _Don’t_.”

Gareth’s mouth clicks close, but there’s a flush high in his cheeks that Fenris knows well. He shifts a little and bites down on his lip.

It takes Fenris back a little bit, “You’re enjoying this.”

“... I like it when you get rough,” Gareth murmurs, flush deepening and glancing down at his feet. “And when you get all possessive.”

“Really?” Fenris’ voice drops down to a purr. He flexes his fingers, digging the sharpened tips of his gauntlets into the wood of the door. Leaning in closer, he continues, “You like it when I remind you that you belong to me?”

“Maker, _yes_. Too much, maybe.” Gareth shifts, legs spreading a little. He hesitates for a brief moment, before laying his hands against Fenris’ chest. “But I don’t care. You could’ve taken me right there on the floor, Fenris, and I likely wouldn’t have cared.”

Though he shivers at the thought, Fenris growls, “ _No one_ gets to see you like that but me.”

He catches Gareth’s lower lip between his teeth, tugging at it, before claiming his mouth with his own. Gareth tastes of fine wine from the party, sweet and vaguely redolent of fruit. His fingers dig long grooves into the wood of the door, but he doesn’t care for the damage.

And neither, it’s apparent, does Gareth, who whines as Fenris kisses him and clings to Fenris’ armour as he leans into the kiss.

He pulls away, leaving behind a breathless Gareth, and says, voice low and rumbling in his chest, “You’re _mine_ , Gareth.”

“Always,” Gareth replies. He pecks a chaste kiss to the corner of Fenris’ lips, before his head flops back against the door with a muffled thud. He’s trembling, visibly now, with suppressed need and Fenris can feel his own rise in response.

But there’s no need to suppress it now, with just the two of them behind closed doors. He has Gareth exactly where he wants him, trapped and with nowhere to go; and Gareth is, as always, completely willing and open to him.

Freeing one of his hands from the door, Fenris drags his hand down the front of Gareth’s fine clothes. The metal leaves little rips in the fabric, catching here and there and the fabric tears. With a smirk, Fenris presses a little harder, dragging a finger down the centre of Gareth’s fine shirt. It gives way easily, the fabric parting and revealing tantalizing glimpses of honeyed gold skin beneath.

Gareth shudders, arching up into the touch, and his hands fall to his sides, fingers turning to claws against the door. His breath stutters as Fenris continues, hips twitching.

Parting the now shredded fabric with his hands, Fenris pushes it up and off Gareth’s shoulders. It falls down his arms to his wrists, and Gareth lifts those, letting the ruined fabric fall to the floor around his feet.

Careful, now, Fenris trails his still armoured fingers along the lines of muscle and scars. He keeps his hands from the waistband of Gareth’s pants, despite the way that Gareth’s hips continue to twitch upwards to beg him to touch him where he _really_ needs him to.

_Not yet_ , Fenris thinks, smirk widening.

“I won’t share you with anyone else, Gareth,” he says. He presses his hands over Gareth’s, pinning them to the door and squeezing them. “You belong to me, didn’t you yourself say that?”

“Yes,” Gareth says, dragging out the last syllable into a hiss. “And I meant it, you know I did.”

Humming thoughtfully, Fenris leans in and mouths his way along the side of Gareth’s neck, “Maybe you need a reminder, Gareth, of just _who_ you belong to.”

His teeth sink into the soft, vulnerable flesh – hard enough to leave a lasting mark, but not enough to break the skin.

Gareth hisses, head thudding back against the door.

Fenris has left marks on Gareth before, but never ones in so visible a location. He enjoys the thought immensely, the sight of the rapidly darkening mark on Gareth’s skin, and bites down again, and again until there’s not even a sliver of unmarked flesh on the side of Gareth’s neck.

Practically beaming with pride, Fenris beholds his work and has to suppress a shiver at the sight.

Gareth is visibly wrecked, his chest heaving, and that flush now extends down his neck to his chest, staining the skin a pale red. His pupils are blown with lust, leaving a ring of bright amber around the black, and his mouth hangs open as he breathes.

From previous experience, Fenris knows what that mouth feels like when wrapped around his cock, against his skin, and he presses up against Gareth, kissing the corner of Gareth’s mouth and smiling when the other tries to catch his lips with his own.

“I could take you right here,” Fenris murmurs. “Would you like that, Gareth? I could lift you up, keep you pressed up against the door and have you. And maybe, if I felt like it, you could have release after I’ve found mine.”

Gareth makes a choked noise, nods his head frantically. His nails are scratching against the wood, his body trembling violently.

“Or…” Fenris draws a finger down the length of Gareth’s neck, pausing over the centre of his breastbone. “I could take your mouth, with you on your knees, and leave you to find pleasure yourself. Or until I feel like giving it to you. Would you like _that_ , Gareth?”

Gareth whines, “Maker, Fenris, you’re not making this easy.”

There’s a little part of him that’s surprised how… easily Gareth is taking this, that he’s accepting of it, and that he _wants_ it as much as Fenris does. He presses down on Gareth’s breastbone harder, leaning in closer, but doesn’t yet kiss him though Gareth tries valiantly.

“Maybe you don’t care how I take you, is that it? So long as I do?”

Gareth nods, frantically, “You could throw me to the floor and take me right now, leave me sore and wanting and I would _still_ want you.”

“There’s an idea. Perhaps later.” Fenris brushes his lips against Gareth’s, “But I find that I’m rather loath to let you down at this moment.”

The belt is a little trickier than the rest of his clothing, but Fenris removes it _without_ painfully mutilating it. Gareth’s boots are spared a similar fate, given that they go flying across the room as Gareth shoves them off as quickly as he can. However, Gareth’s pants and undergarments aren’t so lucky; Fenris shreds them the same way that he did Gareth’s shirt.

“If you complain about my treatment, you will find yourself sleeping alone tonight,” Fenris growls. He hitches Gareth’s hips up on the wall, lifting him off his feet, and steadies himself with one hand pressed against the solid wood beside Gareth’s head.

“I _really_ don’t care,” Gareth replies breathily. His legs come up, wrapping around Fenris’ waist and pressing him in and he doesn’t make a noise even though Fenris knows how uncomfortable his armour can be. “Please tell me you’re keeping the armour on.”

“Why wouldn’t I? This isn’t about you, Gareth. If I want to take my pleasure of you, I can.”

Gareth’s legs tighten their grip in response to that.

It is, as Fenris finds, a little bit more than difficult to remove a vial of oil from one of the pouches at his waist while balancing one’s lover against a door. However, he manages. Somehow.

With his teeth, Fenris tugs off one glove, then the other, keeping Gareth pinned where he is against the door. His gauntlets hit the floor with muffled thumps, which he promptly ignores. The oil is cool against his fingers, and he rubs them together – though he somehow doubts that Gareth would mind the chill, lost in pleasure as he is.

He presses a finger up to Gareth’s entrance, a little surprised when it gives way easily. He hardly waits for Gareth to adjust before pressing in a second one.

For his part, Gareth’s head drops down and he pants, his own dick hard and straining. He pants for breath, knuckles having gone bone white with their grip on the door. There’s a high, keening noise lodged in his throat as Fenris begins thrusting his fingers and, as always, Fenris is surprised by how _vocal_ Gareth actually is.

“I could come just like this,” Gareth pants. “If you wanted. I don’t care, so long as it’s you.”

Mouthing at the bites he left, Fenris replies, “But I want to _have_ you, Gareth. I need to remind you who you belong to, after all.”

“ _Fuck_.”

He grins, “That’s the idea.”

Once he’s certain that nothing is going to actually _tear_ when he takes him, Fenris removes his fingers and uses the remainder of the oil to slick up his cock. His supporting arm trembles, unused to holding up the weight of Gareth for so long, but he can manage _damn it_ , and he slides in with more force than he’d originally intended.

Gareth’s head slams against the door and Fenris takes it in hand, making sure that he hasn’t hurt himself someone.

“I’m fine, really,” Gareth assures him, smiling. His voice, though, wavers, and he rolls his hips as best he can, which makes him bite his lip and groan in response. “Please, _Fenris_. I need you to _move_.”

Though it’s not been long since he last had him, Fenris is again taken aback at just how _tight_ Gareth really is. It’s a delicious feeling and one that he’s certain that he’ll never get tired of. Nor the way the noises that Gareth makes when he begins to move.

He’s never been a quiet lover, Gareth. And Fenris finds that he appreciates that. The first time he’d been worried about hurting the other man, concerned by how easily Gareth had gone along with his every move and touch. Learning later that it had been Gareth’s first time… he hated himself more for what he had done in the aftermath.

But now isn’t the time for such dark, deep thoughts. Instead, Fenris focuses on how Gareth feels around him, the way that his legs flex with each thrust, and how he lets out a high whining noise when Fenris finds that spot of deep pleasure inside of him.

“Right there,” Gareth breathes out. “Again, please. Oh _Maker_ , Fenris please!”

“You’re so loud,” Fenris says. “Do you think that Bodahn and Sandal can hear my taking you all the way downstairs?”

Gareth whimpers, bites down on his lip, and shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Fenris purrs. “They should know that you’re mine.”

“They do. Really, Fenris. They know.”

He’s babbling now, words tumbling out without thought, and it makes Fenris smirk to hear. They tamper down as he ups his pace, turning from short, stuttering sentences into muffled repetitions of Fenris’ name mixed up with the Maker. And a whole lot of swearing.

“Could you come like this, Gareth? Without my even touching you?”

Gareth lets out a low, keening shriek in response, muffled quickly by him slapping a hand over his mouth. But that doesn’t stop him from nodding his head readily.

Peeling his hand from his mouth, Fenris kisses him – sloppily and with too much teeth, but he doesn’t care, “Let me hear you. Come for me, Gareth. I know you want to.”

His orgasm tears out of him with a strangled shout of Fenris’ name. Strings of cum splatter across their stomachs as Gareth rides out his orgasm, his legs wrapped so tightly around Fenris’ hips that all he can do is rock against him.

For his part, Fenris has to grit his teeth and ball his hands into fists to keep from coming right there alongside of him.

Gareth is babbling as he comes down, hands clumsily taking Fenris’ face between his hands and kissing him messily as he does. It takes a little concentration for Fenris to realize what Gareth’s saying.

“Keep going, please, Fenris, I need you to come too.”

_Shit_.

He’s hopeless and Fenris knows it well.

He has to steady himself with a hand tightly clinging to Gareth’s hip. It takes him a long moment to regain some measure of his shattered to control to keep from slamming Gareth up against the door repeatedly in search of his own climax. He has _just_ enough restraint to keep himself from doing so.

Still, it’s rougher than he would normally have preferred. He’ll wince and apologize later for the bruises that he’ll inevitably find on Gareth’s hips and back; the mottled collection of teeth impressions that he’ll have on his neck for the next little while.

But he can’t stop the twinge of pride in knowing that _he_ caused them; that he left his mark.

When he lets Gareth down, the man nearly takes them both to the floor. His face is still flushed bright red, lips swollen, and legs trembling and unsteady. It’s only Fenris’ fast reflexes and strength that keep them from collapsing to the floor in a mess of limbs.

“Gareth...?”

“M’fine,” Gareth mumbles into the side of Fenris’ neck. “You should get jealous more often.”

“I hardly think my jealousy is an attractive feature.”

“It is to me,” Gareth replies. He tilts his head back and smiles, bright and open and it warms Fenris’ heart to see.

“You’re a strange man, Gareth.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Words:** 2426 words
> 
> Originally written for [this prompt](https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/81843.html?thread=310222515) over on the Dragon Age kink meme. Because I enjoy stalking those like some creeper looking for prompts to fill. It's what I do. Please enjoy my suffering. Also, I 100% have a possessive kink myself so... yeah, this was right up my alley. ~~What can I say, I'm trash.~~


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